The Irish standard., 1887-06-25
AT TOM MO0RE'S GRAVE.
Where He Lived In His Old Age,
Where He Peacefully
Passed Away.
BRIEF NOTES ABOUT A JOURNEY
That Will yet be made by Myriads of Those
Who Venerate the Glorious Gift
Of Poetic Genius.

An attache of the Dublin Freeman s
Journal thus narrates a memorable
Journey that he recently made: During
my walk through the town of Devices.
in the shire of Wits, Eng, [ got In a
booksellers shop a photograph OF Slo-
pertOn cottage. in which Moore resided.
the only n1ement, of the poet to be had,
and I discovered a hosteIry which had
some associations of interest to me as
a Limerick man. This was the Castle
Inn" in which Gerald Griffin (author
of "The Collegians'') and his brother
Dauiel--the writer Of the noveist's
iography-stayed for few days in
1882, when they We're sent as deputa-
tion from the electors Of Limerick to
ask Moore to represent the City in Par
lament. The honor was declined by
Moore on the ground that he could not
devote the necessary time to the dis
charge Of the duties. Gerald Griffin. in
a letter describing the visit. mentions
that one morning at breakfast he asked
the waiter at the i'm did he know any
thing about Mr. Moore, of Sloperton
cottage? yes" replied tbs waiter,
'.he is a poet" II did not KNOW
writes Griffin, ''whether to embrace the
man for knowing SO much, or 10 kick
him for knowing SO little.'' Alas, we
live in more degenerate times. The fact
that a g,eat poet named Moore lived
for thirty five years at Bromham, within
five miles Of Devices, and has been
sleeping there in his grave Ior thirty
five years more, was unknown 10 the
present occupier of the position Of
waiter at the Castle Inn. What is
worse-and what touched my heart to
sadiless-is that that ignorance Of
Moore and his works isnot monopolized
by the waiter Of the Castle Inn. Before
the day was over I got many illus5ra~
tions of the sad fact-sad to me as an
Irishrnan promo of my country man
that our greatest poet is unknown to
most people even by name in the county
Of Willis, the home Of his adoption.
But there was comfort in the thought
that Moore did not write for the duh,
stolid and unimaginarive inhabitants
OF Wiltshire who asa rule are so thick
headed that they can find no answers
to your questions beyond long drawn
ont ''no abs" and "e-e.eses." It is said
that during his life anlelg them the
people of Bromham looked upon him
as the author Of ''Moore's Almanack," +"
to which they were wont to apply for
forewarnings against crop.destroying
weather.! In The most remote districts
of the west and south Of Ireland have
heard the melodies sung by the peas
antry; and Moore, though when CEN
sured for using the airs as vehicles of
dangerous politics. had replied that
they were intended solely for tie piano
fortes Of the rich and educated, must
have hoped for this sort Of fame, for
When, during visit to xillarnay, he
heard the strains Of some of the melo-
dies played on bugle ecboing From
Dinis' Green Isle to Glena's Woocea
Shore he wrote of himself:
Even so though thy nlem'ry should now die
away,
Twill be caught up again in some happier day.
And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong
Through the answering future thy name and thy
song
Iwalked from Devices to Bfomham
Church over q very pleasant country
road. with shady hedgerows, winding
through rich meadow lands Of an un~
dulating character, rather thlckly
planted with towering oaks and elms,
past antique looking cottages with
their quaint gables overgroan with ivy
and woodbine, having prettily arranged
flower beds in front Of the doors. while
behind were vegetable gardens or or
chards with blossom loaded trees. The
day was very fine. and such an air of
peace and order and stiffness, save for
the welcome interruption Of skylarks'
notes, peryaded the whole scene, that
the ruff1ing thoughts aroused by the
dense ignorance of Moore which had
met my inquiries soon disappeared, and
reached Bromham Church-the spire
OF which [ had seen mile of-with
mind at. peace with everybody and
tinged with melancholy appropriate
to the object Of my visit l walked
through the little villrge Of Bromham
without meeting any of the inhabitants.
and, ascending a few steps, passed
through wooden wicket into the little
graveyard which surrounds the church.
With quick steps and eager eyes / went
among the tombs to the left OF the
church as entered, passed around to
the rear, and there in few seconds my
eve caught the name Moore" on the
slab that marks the grave of the poet.